Youth Notes

I'm gone, she said.Wen Ziqing said that I have changed.It is no longer the positive and optimistic person, no longer funny and bright.Her words made my face change color, I felt my face change, I saw a dark cloud wiped from my forehead to my chin, staggered and wiped from different directions, blood rushed from bottom to top and from Up and down.She was right, my diary and composition are full of unclear words, ambiguous language, and incomprehensible words and sentences.Without patriotism, without ideals, without society and life, without struggle and pursuit, without happiness.No, there are, all are, but the "event" has been erased, there is no event, no time, place, person, nothing real.There are only some hazy or jumping and surging feelings.I am too "intoxicated with mountains and rivers".

She said: Do you think you can write well now?Do you think it’s good for the teacher to praise you for your words that are subtle, tasteful and thoughtful?It's all unreal stuff.

I kept silent, she was right, my words and mood were shrouded in the chill of autumn, inexplicable, wanting to talk, unable to stop, incoherent, not knowing what to say.I am afraid, afraid of this feeling, but I can’t get out, I don’t know how to break free from it, it is so entangled in me, it turns into air and permeates every part of my body, I can’t touch it, I can't hold it, I can't find it at all, I don't seem to want to break free, I am, sadly, happily, obsessed with it.

Wen Ziqing's words pierced my confusion, I was sad, hurt, and conscious in the silence.It is only when you have consciousness that you start to linger on numbness, and only then do you feel that being numb is better than being awake in pain.

I found out in a panic that the world to me is like tragedies that are being staged and will be staged one after another. I will see many, many tragedies, and reality is full of tragedies.The girl who criticized herself as a bad girl was a tragedy, those who were thrown out of key middle schools were a tragedy, those who were locked up in the classroom and could no longer sing were a tragedy, the boy who was noticed and talked about was a tragedy, those who always It is a tragedy for girls who are talking about meat and vegetables, men and women dressed in clothes, and it is a tragedy for people like me whose soul cannot be peaceful all day long.And I have a premonition that there will be more tragedies, like the Opium War, like the Nanjing Massacre, one after another, cruel and appalling.The world before my eyes turned gray.

No, I don't want to see it, I can only live in a glorious world, where "the fragrance of flowers is blowing and the sun is shining", people "take great strides towards life", and "all roads" are "open" for them .

Wen Ziqing's words made me even more confused. I was afraid of her "questioning" and her "criticism". Already hate me.

This is the worst.

Wen Ziqing, I don't know why.I don't know why I miss you so much.Why do you care so much about you, what you say and do.I don't know why I always follow your figure and covet your face.I don't know why I am so obsessed and hard to find your traces, and I am drawn by your every frown and smile, and I am happy or sad for this.I don't know why I don't care about everything except you anymore, I'm no longer interested in it.I don't know why I always want to cry.Why.Why.Why.

who can i talk toIs there this "who"?I don't even know myself, what should I say.After I find someone and talk to someone, can I stop doing this?Can I still do this?I am afraid of this, and I am even more afraid of not being able to do this again.

I don't say anything, I can't say it, I can't say it, I don't want to say it.

I say to nature.I have found someone to talk to, and it is really wise.

In the valley in autumn, the truth is revealed.The stream is very thin and the spring water is very quiet.The creek water is lingering, ding dong into a rhyme, holding it in hand, holding it at the entrance, it is my lover.The clear spring reflects the silent blue sky. I looked at it and smiled, but I dared not touch it. It was so beautiful. I put it in my heart and hugged it in my heart. When I saw the clear spring in my arms, that was my lover.The sand and stones outside the dry and yellow stream, the sand and stones in the wet and green stream, the trees and grass that are still green, my lover, is my lover.

Hang around, hang around, hang around.Linger in the mountain stream.The valley behind the campus is where I often stop.Stand alone.

On the mountain road in autumn, red flies all over the path.The redbuds are blooming, and the redbuds along the entire mountain road are quietly blooming.

It was the first time I knew this flower and paid attention to it.It turns out that this kind of flower is everywhere in the campus. It turns out that there are so many of this kind of flowers on both sides of the road. It turns out that this is such a beautiful flower.The tree is still purple, the ground is already full of fragrance, and the ground is full of falling red, but the tree is still fresh and fresh.Bauhinia is a flower that never ends.The flowers, the petals, and the falling petals are all fresh and beautiful.That's beauty, it's death, it's the dead spirit of beauty.

I walked under the flower tree, either moving or still, singing or singing, joyful or sad.I watched Wen Ziqing walk under the flower tree, talking and laughing happily with the group of people around her.Look at her white shirt, blue skirt, and pink jacket, from autumn to winter.Bauhinia is always in bloom.

On the mountain road in the early morning, the cold air diffuses quietly in the clear morning light.Holding the hand of Qiufeng, I walked up the mountain outside the window, jogging, doing morning exercises, and walking through the fragrance and greenery.The small tree facing the east is the palm holding the rising sun, and I wait there for the autumn sun to move towards the sky clear and clear.

Bauhinia.

The mountains are full of redbuds and trees are full of trees.warmth.Delicate.romantic.I, kissed it.I kissed a bauhinia petal on a branch.

That time, I was stupid.

We sing, in my little house.On weekends, Wen Ziqing would come occasionally.Riding a bicycle, there is a wild grass that looks like a feather and a dog's tail inserted in front of the car.There are still endless words, we are still childish together, we will always become very childish together, like two fools.We talked, laughed together, sang together, grotesquely, we recited poetry, pretended to be like two madmen.We are happy because we can understand each other's every word, every expression, and every look.

We wrote letters. We continued to be in the same class in the first semester of the first year of high school. After we became classmates, we were still writing letters. Wen Ziqing would make envelopes by herself. He wrote on a kind of pink rough letter paper, and wrote so-and-so receipt on the white envelope in very neat characters like a primary school student.We have created many names for ourselves.Blue sky received.Bai Yun received.Holy harvest.Solemnly received.The sea collects.Bai Fan received.Received by Marshal Hongyan, Antarctica.General Arctic Hedgehog silenced.Birds bring happiness.The nightingale brought the song of spring in March...

I took a picture of Wen Ziqing, in order to capture her figure in a pink jacket.For the way I like her, I hope she often wears this little jacket.She wore it.She left a pink figure in the valley where we listened to the spring.

I left the world, I created a new world.I put on myself a pair of eyes that only look at the blue sky like autumn water.